


Untitled

by afinch



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental Bonds, All of the Firsts, Angst, Atonement - Freeform, BDSM, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone is a bad guy, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Gen, Illness, Learning to be Loved, M/M, Slow Build, Smut, Taking Care of Someone, Trust Issues, Worldbuilding, a timeline of sorts, accepting injury to protect someone else, all the trust issues, being forced to face your fear, characters not being what they seem, deliberate bonds, falls from grace, magical people and worlds, myth-building, unreliable storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/pseuds/afinch
Summary: "I remember when they locked you up," said the old Elf. "I remember when all of you were locked up. Freicur the Conqueror, who would have slayed the world, just to be Master of One.""Do we know one another?" asked Freicur. "Did I wrong you, in some way?""All the ways, that's why they're only just releasing you. Hoping you can teach the new age what is lost. This is Dannik. He's your minder.""Minder? Please, Maurnig, at least use the Council-approved term." He bowed slightly to Freicur. "I am your Conservator and Apprentice."Freicur tried to size the elf up quickly. He was young, yes, but not very. Perhaps twenty hundred, but not more than. Stocky, yet light on his feet. He was tense and doing a good job of hiding it. A diplomat, but a fighter as well. Not a warrior, his eyes were too kind for that.





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> I tried to incorporate as much of what you like into this fic as possible. I will warn you, there is a child, but I promise this is not kid-fic. These are also not Dragon Age-like elves (I don't know that fandom at all) so please forgive me for that.

The cell door opened with barely a creak. In the doorway stood a young jailer, looking a bit nervous. "Erm, Freicur? You're up. Released, I mean. Um … I can, show you out?"

Freicur, middle-aged with ringlets of grey-streaked blonde hair, looked alarmed. He looked at the jailer, then at his wall of perfectly even check marks. "Did I miss time?" he asked. "It's too soon by thirteen hundred - perhaps fourteen hundred - year. I haven't counted ahead, unless there was trickery on Alhan's part."

The jailer frowned. "Er, not sure who Alhan - or sorry, when Alhan - or maybe what Alhan …" he trailed off for a moment, looking lost. Suddenly he brightened. "Ah! Alhan! Second to last of the Marhan Dynasty! Uh, there might have been trickery by him, but not by us, or at least, not since the Council, but you wouldn't know of any of that. At any rate, yes, it's early. Kingford listened to the Council and commuted the sentences of the Dying Ones on account of, oh, it's complicated, and I'm not the best to explain. All I'm supposed to do is take you to the gate."

So many interesting revelations. So little time to ponder them, if freedom was being granted. Freicur held out his hands as far as they would go, the chain around his neck pulsing; he swerved on his feet as the magic coursed through him, but he was determined to look his jailer in the eye, proud, when he was freed. He had vowed that to himself, over and over again, these eleven hundred years. 

"No, er, sorry," said the jailer. "Only to take you to the gate."

"A pity," said Freicur. "I was looking forward to burning it down."

He tucked his arms back to his sides and without a glance back at the cell, walked over the threshold. The jailer stammered, but said nothing. It was probably a good idea his bonds hadn't come off immediately. Freicur was sorely tempted to fry the whole jail.

"Are you a halfling?" he demanded of the jailer.

The jailer shuddered. "No," he said softly. "No, there are no halflings left. I'm Elf, through and through."

Freicur brightened at this, "And the wizards? We've defeated them?"

At this the jailer stopped. Freicur let out a frustrated growl. Only a few more moments, and he would be free. Free to rule, if this was the state of Elves after such time. Had they gone soft in victory?

"Speak," he commanded.

"Through this door, and across the courtyard," the jailer said, ignoring the question. He turned a small object into the door and pushed it open. "Goodbye, Freicur."

Freicur didn't need to be told twice. He stepped through the door and did not look back when it shut behind him. At the end of the courtyard, near the Stonyvine Gate, was an elderly Elf, and beside him, a much younger Elf. Both looked impatient. He hurried to them and once again held out his hands as far as the chain would go. "Release me," he commanded.

For only the third time in his life, his command was ignored. Second and a half, if you counted the jailer technically speaking, though they both knew the words were not the intent of the command. 

"I remember when they locked you up," said the old Elf. "I remember when all of you were locked up. Freicur the Conqueror, who would have slayed the world, just to be Master of One."

"Do we know one another?" asked Freicur. "Did I wrong you, in some way?"

"All the ways, that's why they're only just releasing you. Hoping you can teach the new age what is lost. This is Dannik. He's your minder."

"Minder? Please, Maurnig, at least use the Council-approved term." He bowed slightly to Freicur. "I am your Conservator and Apprentice."

Freicur tried to size the elf up quickly. He was young, yes, but not very. Perhaps twenty hundred, but not more than. Stocky, yet light on his feet. He was tense and doing a good job of hiding it. A diplomat, but a fighter as well. Not a warrior, his eyes were too kind for that.

He was interrupted in his assessment by Maurnig snorting in derision. Freicur wondered what his role was - and more importantly, what had been lost - and how long it would be before his bonds were removed and he could exact his long-awaited revenge on a self-admitted participant in his imprisonment. His fingers twitched.

"And that's why," Maurnig nodded to Dannik. "See the finger movement? He's aching for a spell right now. Probably a'cursed one, to kill us both. You'll learn, whether he teaches or not."

Dannik's exterior slipped for just a moment, and Freicur was pleased to note that he'd looked nervous at that. Like he was just realizing just how far in over his head he was. 

"It's in your interest to teach," Maurnig said to Freicur. "I'm the overseer. I decide whether you're providing the use to society that Kingford convinced the Council you had, or, my preference, whether we drag you back to that cell and lock it in a time bubble and leave you to rot for the next three thousand years." He said this calmly, without any hint of fear at what Freicur might do in response. 

Freicur's fingers twitched again, but he knew he'd be out cold before he got his arm upright enough, let alone before he could say anything. His sentence, twenty-five hundred years, was a likely death sentence. Alhan had not been lenient.

Maurnig smiled. "I hold all the cards, you remember that, you scourge. I'm the overseer. I will meet with you and Dannik every black moon to test Dannik's magic. If he improves, you get a favorable report. If he doesn't … it won't be the first, but I'll make sure it's the last time you step through Stonyvine. Do you even remember Elennig the Elven Bride? You scum, I can see it in your face, you've no idea."

He turned sharply to Dannik. "I'll give you time to get acquainted with your … _property_. I'll see you at the following black moon. At the very least, the Sealing should be done by then."

Freicur and Dannik stayed silent as the Elf walked slowly back through the courtyard. The silence only broken when the door that Freicur had only moments before walked through, clanged shut behind Maurnig.

"Did he say Sealing?" Freicur asked. "Are the chains not enough? Must you bind me magically?"

Dannik shrugged, "In case the chains break, it offers some limited protection."

"They are Hapsenforged," retorted Freicur, his voice rising in anger. "They are already unbreakable!"

"Please don't be mad," Dannik said. "At least, not until we're ahead of the gate. Back at my dwelling. It will not do either of us well if you lose your temper and the bonds activate."

Already sharp jolts of pain were flowing through Freicur. Much as he hated to admit it, the lad was right. It would do him well to bide his time, gain the confidences of the lad, and then strike once the lad was properly under his spell. He nodded his assent.

"Good," said Dannik. "Now Maurnig thinks I should command you. He thinks it might teach you humility. Some of the others command their Dying Ones, but everything I've read about the old age magic says emotion is key. You can't teach me properly if you resent me. Now come, there's so much I'm sure you want to ask." He didn't wait for a response before heading for the gate.

Like a puppy who had no choice but to obey, Freicur followed.

Outside the repressive barriers of the jail, Freicur could feel the air for the first time. His skin, which had sat sallow for so long, pinkened in the air. He instinctively curled his fingers towards the sun, but the pulse from the chain stopped him short. While inside his cell, and even inside the gates, the throbbing buzz had diminished to nothing. Here, with full magic in the air, the buzzing around the collar and cuffs thrummed, low, but still constant enough to be bothersome. 

He tugged at the collar around his neck and let out a low grunt. "It's choking me," he said. "You fools haven't consid-"

Dannik turned back to his charge. "Hush, he said. "Look around. You will be fine. You are not the first Dying One to be released. Let us wait until we are back to my dwelling to speak. There is much changed for you to ponder as we journey." Without waiting for a response, he turned back ahead. 

He had said all of this like one might to a small elf-child, scolding, with a hint of impertinence. Freicur swallowed hard, biting back his anger. He had, inexplicably, been _more_ powerful inside the prison than out; the more magic he was exposed to, the weaker he became. Nevertheless, he heeded Dannik's advice and looked around.

On first glance, the world looked the same as it ever did, rows of stone buildings, stone-laid paths, and rich foliage decorating the landscape, cascading in color down every path. Freicur looked towards Hapsen, and was pleased to see it still burning brightly in the distance. Far in the distance, the sky shimmered where it met the land and created the Bounds; no wizard could cross the bounds unless as prize. Peering closer, he realized the Bounds were dark, murky. It unsettled him and he wanted to ask his _Minder_ about it. Since they were not to talk until they reached a dwelling place, Freicur looked closer at what was in front of him. 

Elves darted to and fro, and while some gave curious glances to him, most were keen to leave him alone. His manner of dress stood out, but Freicur knew that even if dresses changed throughout the years, his sage and brown dress marked him as a prisoner, if one did not notice the chains. Those were impossible to miss, heavy and black as they were. They clashed against his pale skin, and as far as he could see, no other elf was in bonds as his. 

They were smaller too, he noted. His size, while not extraordinary, was among the largest of the elves he saw. They did not grow towards the sun. Nor, as he was noticing, were the buildings oriented to the sun; they were aligned into neat paths that they continued to twine along, but their doorways and windows had no order or purpose to them. 

The plants too, were not reaching for the sun, but looked as though they had been placed for their aesthetic appeal only. It was wrong, Freicur realized. It only looked as though things were the same, but something was terribly, impossibly wrong.

It was why the air was hanging thick with magic that made his chains choke him. The elves had lost their way. 

But Hapsen was there, a small comfort. Had Hapsen been extinguished, Freicur would have preferred death. He was so caught on catching the sight of it again as they wove through the maze that he did not notice when Dannik abruptly stopped. 

Freicur instinctively moved his hands to curse his minder elf, but the pain drew him short and he doubled over, gasping for air. His vision tunneled and he could not help but gasp out in horror; it was as though knives were ripping him into pieces, cut by cut. The bonds were reacting to the breath in his lungs, as though he could control the magic that hung in the air. 

"No," he breathed, as visions of shifting shapes and golden cords twisted in front of him. He could not tell if the cords had been or were now being bound about his limbs; the cords burned with a fire, a different pain than the chains. While the chains reacted to magic, the cords would burn him, from the outside-in, the longer they were left on him. "No," he breathed again. "I will have your blood."

He twitched his fingers and the bonds activated fully; he felt his soul try to ignite. And then, nothing.

* * *

When he came to, a strange face was peering at him. It was strange in that she was not a halfling, nor a wizard, nor an elf. She looked as though she might have been a mongrel once, with her face squashed in and wrinkled, and her ears folded and long. She was lean, and her dress was a pale blue unlike anything he had seen before. He longed to know if she had a tail and whether the pale gold hair that framed her face covered her body as well. He moved slightly, trying to see her hands, and she seemed to understand that he was conscious for she leaned closer. He pressed into the bed, helpless, and she smiled, with mirth in her eyes as he twitched on the bed, his uncertainty around the situation giving her all the power. He realized suddenly that his dress had been removed, but the bonds stayed. He remembered as far as the golden cords, but did not know if that had been a memory or a recurrence. 

"And you are?" he inquired of her. She opened her mouth, revealing that her tongue had been cut out. It gave him some hope, to think there were other races the elves had discovered and enslaved. He at least had hope of his freedom, they had not taken the magic from him, only contained it. So long as he was left whole, he could one day regain what was rightfully his. 

"Where is Dannik?" he demanded again. She smiled again, and shrugged. Freicur had enough; he made to sit up, but she pressed a gloved hand against his chest. She could not say anything, but the look she gave him was enough. It told him that she would harm him if he tried to move. 

He struggled to think of something he could ask that she could answer. "Am I your captive?" he finally asked.

She beamed in reply. An unknown slaved race was holding him captive. Dannik was nowhere to be found. He was inside a small stone dwelling. The fireplace was unused and looked cold. The only light was from a small pocket-fire that rested near the foot of the bed. He was not bound by any other means, and he could faintly feel magic in the air. It was dry, stilted magic, as though someone had tried to cast a Blackening spell, but it hadn't sealed all the way. Some magic was seeping into the room. Freicur supposed he wasn't supposed to know that. 

He rattled his bonds, "And do you intend for me to be chattel captive?"

In response, the mongrel-girl raised something into the air. Freicur couldn't see the shape of it, but the way her fingers curled around, he supposed it was a translucent knife of some sort. He didn't have time to ponder. She brought the object down sharply at his throat, striking the collar. The Hapsenforged impenetrable bonds shattered. It should have been impossible, only the forged key could break a forged chain, but a new race would bring new power and the possibility that this race might be stronger could not be discounted. 

She raised her hand again and Freicur did not flinch as she shattered the cuff on first his right wrist, then his left. She sat back and looked at him expectantly. 

Freicur did not know what she wanted. If it was approval, she would not get it. If it was his allyship, she would not have that either.

Quick as lightning, he moved, letting a wave of pure, raw magic roll off him. The first magic he'd cast in far too long. If he was right, it would stun her long enough for him to attack. It worked and she fell from the bed, scrabbling at the floor in terror. He was merciless, moving his fingers quickly and pulling charged currents from the air. He hurled them at her cowering form until she collapsed, lying supine as blood trickled from her mouth and her eyes clouded over. Expected or not, it was what he had given to her in exchange for his freedom.

Then he turned his attention to the door, firing an opening spell at it. It held, tightly. Freicur realized in an instant that the Blackening would hold and his only change had been at one initial targeted blast of magic at the door. He'd wasted it on the mongrel-girl. Now he would have to wait until he was fully recharged to try again. He moved his fingers impatiently, pulling from the air what little he could. He'd used so much to attack the mongrel-girl. He might take as much as a day, with how little he could currently pull. As he looked at the girl, furious and planning to take his anger out on her form, her dress darkened. Once the pale blue of an endless sky, it was now the greenish hue of an oncoming storm. Her hair, golden and pure, rotted to a slimey green. The gloves, once white, turned to a deep black. It was like staring into an abyss, darker than anything he'd ever seen before. They almost looked like holes in the fabric of the world itself. 

In an instant, he knew what she was; he looked frantically for the knife, knowing that his magic would be of no use against an Udur. He jumped back in surprise when she sat up and smiled. This was not the beaming smile of a poor slave, this was a cold and calculated smile of pure evil. He reached for the bed, and ripped a piece of cloth. If he could block even one ear in time, he had a fighting chance.

"I wouldn't do that," she said, and her voice was like velvet. It melted into his lungs and heart and he could not think properly. His arm dropped to his side like a stone and the scrap of cloth fluttered uselessly to the floor. Even if he wanted it to, his arm would not move.

"Kneel before me," she whispered. It did not sound like a command, but a lullaby, soothing him sweetly. "Submit to me." Her lips traced the words, no sound was necessary. The warmth of her words trickled down into his blood, giving life that was not his to his limbs. He sank to his knees, his palms outstretched atop them. He was floating in her words, powerless to resist her. He could not even think his own thoughts. 

"You have failed the test." The words wrapped in his brain. He had thought them, but she had bid them. She had thought them and he had bid them. They were intertwined, she controlled him fully. 

She placed the impossible dagger into his left palm. She took a step back. Then another. He watched her, unblinking. His hand did not curl around the dagger, for she had not thought for him to do so. He did not blink, for she did not wish him to do so.

"Submit to Dannik. He calls you now."

His fingers curled around the dagger even as his hand moved to plunge the dagger into his heart.

Once more, his soul ignited.

* * *

"Freicur?" the voice was soft. It was familiar. Freicur blinked. His body was heavy, and weak. It had been drained of magic, even the latent magic that flowed in his blood and he drew in breaths from the air. He was a useless paperclip. He was alive. He blinked again and the face came into focus. 

"Dannik." Freicur acknowledged. "How did you employ an Udur into your service? Not even Alhan -"

"Shhhh," said Dannik, soothingly. "You've been out of it for almost half a moon now. What do you last remember?"

"The Udur," Freicur said. "She wore a cloaking dress and tricked me. She freed me. I did magic. My bonds were shat-" He moved his hands and felt the bonds still there and heard the rattling of the chains. He had not been freed. He knew it as he said it. The Udur couldn't break Hapsenforged chain with a _daggar_. It was a devastating blow. For a brief few moments, he had been free; the realization devastated him and he was unable to hide it. With a low moan, he fell back into the pillow.

Dannik leaned forward and pressed his hand against Freicur's cheek. "It was but a fire dream," he said, his tone still soothing. "The bonds activated partially when I startled you. I do not blame you for reacting. When I attempted to calm you down and stop the activation, they activated fully."

"The Udur …?"

"Fire dream. You've been thrashing almost non-stop as the magic cycled out of your blood. I am sorry. I am deeply, deeply sorry for what has happened." Dannik sounded sorrowful, as though he himself had clasped the bonds around Freicur's wrists and neck. As though he had carried out Alhan's death sentence himself. The kindness did not deter Freicur from seeking the truth of his reality. 

"Golden cords …?"

Dannik withdrew his hand and a for a brief moment, Freicur wanted it back. He could feel the magic in Dannik, it was more powerful than the magic in the air, and he wanted to claim it as his. "I tried to cast a simple Support," Dannik explained. "It made it worse."

"You gave me my worst memory instead," Freicur said flatly. "The third finger on the left hand is the power caster. Not the first on the right."

Dannik said nothing and Freicur did not push. By Dannik's gentleness, Freicur knew that he was full of remorse. And remorse Freicur could play with, draw out to reveal even more weaknesses from his captor. Weaknesses that would free him. 

Freicur blinked a few more times. Now his eyes had adjusted to the room. It was exactly the room that he had just woken from. This fireplace, unlike the Udur one, was glowing brightly. Freicur turned towards it. It would help him restore his magic to the levels the bonds allowed. The room had a warm brown glow, and looked well-worn. The bed had been moved from the sleeping room and was perched on a diagonal, very out of place. This room also had a chair along the far wall, and two shelves of tomes pushed awkwardly into the corner. 

"They're myths now," said Dannik, and it jolted Freicur. 

"What are?"

"The Udur. Halflings. The Creims. After The Massacre, when the Bounds fell, there was naught left but us," Dannik explained. Freicur wondered if this had been offered as a penance; it was more a sign of remorse. It was curious, the kindness. Freicur would not have responded in such a way. But Freicur saw the world in terms of enemies to conquer, always. Never an ally. 

"And what is The Massacre?" Freicur would ask about the Bounds later. If the Bounds had fallen, there was nothing to keep the wizards out. How had they not been overrun by the wizards, if the Bounds had fallen? Wizards hadn't been named in Dannik's list, they must still be around. Freicur had seen no slaves, other than himself. "What happened, Dannik?"

But Dannik was silent. He stayed silent for several moments. 

"Were you there?" Freicur tried. He kept his voice low. Dannik wouldn't respond to threats and more than had the ability to incapacitate him. He would goad information in small bursts.

Dannik looked surprised by this, "No, this was nine hundred year ago. Elhan, last of the Marhan Dynasty. I suppose you knew him?"

Freicur rolled his eyes, "Pompous little bugger. Not a very good caster. Unskilled. Alhan was against the conquest because he knew Elhan would never be able to sustain it. Nine hundred year … how young are you?"

Dannik looked torn between saying and explaining. "After the Massacre … it works differently now. The magic. Our lives. We only live to five hundred at most. We are trying to claim the old magic back. It was why Kingford commuted the sentences of the Dying Ones." Dannik looked sour at this. "We call _you_ the Dying Ones, but we are the ones who are dying."

Five hundred. His sentence had been five times as long. While it had been a life sentence for him, that was only due to his age. He had been four thousand and six hundred year when he was sentenced. The oldest elf had been only six thousand and eight hundred year. At his release, he would have been seven thousand and one hundred year. Fourteen times. They were living quick, useless lives.

"I myself am two hundred year," Dannik continued. "In your time, I would be-"

"A child, no more than an infant," Freicur said. "Not yet eligible for apprenticeship. Not for nearly eight times as long. Not worthy of anything except clan-claims."

"But Maurnig? He lives?"

Dannik was silent. "Much like you were protected by the Gates of Stonyvine, there are enough who were protected in similar ways."

"And all the new-elves … all the elves who were not protected? They have been dying off, and dying so young. While we, with our magic and potential, waste away for crimes that pale in comparison to the loss of our world. Or do they?" Freicur was genuinely curious. And he wondered how it had taken so long. 

"You can see then, our dilemma." Dannik moved to sit at the edge of the bed and Freicur did not move to stop him. It was horrifying. He did not dare to breathe as Dannik spoke. "We are the best ones eligible to learn the magic. We who were created but not yet born, before the Bounds fell - the Massacre. The only eligible to teach us are the Dying Ones. One by one we have been assigned, oldest to youngest. I am youngest, the only survivor of the Dousing of Hapsen, seven hundred years before my birth. They were unsuccessful, as you have seen, but ..."

Freicur considered this. He would come back to Hapsen. Hapsen had not fallen; whatever war had been fought had been won by the elves. He looked at Dannik in what he hoped was a kind manner, "And they feel as though the younger will learn more from the more advanced magic users." He said this as a statement. He didn't know how it could be any different. Or why they would pair Freicur the Conqueror with … a child.

He was surprised to hear Dannik laughing. "No, you'd think that would be the logic. No, they released in order of crime severity. There was a lot of discussion around you. I had thought Maurnig would be successful in scuttling your release. Several of the old ones are unhappy about it. We will show them, will we not? Will you not restore the magic and save your world?"

Now it was his turn to be silent. There had been information. Not a lot of it, he still had questions. But the kindness had netted him answers. "Pull the left and right middle together. Make an almost complete cir-"

"That's warmth!" Dannik said quickly. He stopped just as quickly at the look on Freicur's face.

"Do not complete the circle. Pull down, quickly, but not sharply, at the end." He nodded at Dannik, who looked unsure. "You have treated me kindly. This is my acceptance of your offer. I cannot offer anything but my knowledge; these spells are my good faith."

Trust cut both ways, Freicur knew. He also knew that he could not teach Dannik without an emotional connection. Trust was key to that. He could teach Dannik if Dannik trusted him. He did not have to trust Dannik in return.

Dannik made the movements and Freicur kept his fingers still. The rest of him was not; he was trembling from the anticipation. The fingers moved down and the room exploded with warmth; the fire returned the kindness, springing in the hearth to nearly twice its size.

"Whoa …" whispered Dannik. He was staring at his hands in awe. "That was just simple warmth. That was … I could do so much more." It was as if he was realizing for the first time the power that Freicur held. "I can do so much more," he repeated.

Freicur laughed, "Yes, my little one. You can do so much more."

As Freicur's strength returned, he taught Dannik more, little by little. They looked over the spell books, Freicur scoffing at the instruction. They had tried, after the Massacre, to hold the knowledge, to write it all down. They had done what was simple, but, much like cooking, spell-casting required little tweaks here and there, learned by trial and error. Warmth was just the beginning. They might have been starting simple, but Dannik grew to respect the slow pace. In turn, Freicur came to appreciate the potential of Dannik. Maybe not a warrior, but powerful enough in his own right.

"Maurnig will be impressed," Dannik predicted.

"Maurnig is a trap," Freicur retorted.

And true to form, at the next dark moon, they stood in front of Maurnig, Freicur still weak, but determined to walk. He would not show weakness to an enemy elf. Dannik could say what he wanted, but Maurnig was an enemy. They were in the chambers of the Council, stone and impossibly cold. It was what casters did, sought the cold that ran through their veins. They could never be warm, they would never feel the magic running through their veins. They were elves, yes, and had the barest magic, but they had not been blessed by Hapsen at their creation. In his time, they had been rare, outcasts. Here, they led the world. Here, Dannik was rare. Still, Freicur looked Maurnig coldly in the eye. He would not be intimidated.

The old elf tutted derisively at Freicur. "I heard what happened," he taunted. "Not even an hour out and you activate your bonds. Finally, you get some of what it is you deserve. If I'd been your jailer, I'd force you to activate them over and over again until you begged for death."

"Take these bonds off," Freicur said simply. "And we will see who begs."

"No!" Dannik said, quickly stepping between the two of them. "No, no fighting. We are here under the conditions of the release. I have much to show you of what I have learned, Maurnig."

"Good. We may have observers." Maurnig gestured towards the Council seats, their viewing slits only half-open. "We may not. Shall we begin?" He snapped his fingers and a door to their left open. An masked elf entered, tugging something behind him. It was a bound elf-child, crying and struggling against the bonds. 

She looked like the elf-half of the mongrel-girl from his fire dream. An Udur would not have been contained by these bonds. It unsettling, but Freicur could not pay mind to that. He would remember to ask later. She dug her heels into the earth, resisting futily against the guard, but still resisting. 

Freicur liked her already. Dannik looked horrified. "Maurnig, what is this?"

"I have a devised a scenario, based on what you claim your slave has taught you. He will guide you towards freeing her. If you fail …"

Maurnig trailed off. Dannik, too kind to be a warrior, looked devastated now. "And if I fail?"

"I will get my wish, on your slave."

Before Dannik could reply, before Maurnig could add anything else, Freicur had closed the distance between himself and Dannik. He pressed his hands into Dannik's arm. "Save her," he hissed. He leaned down quickly and kissed each of Dannik's hands, pressing his lips tightly against the skin. He could taste the magic. If they survived this, he would devour Dannik later; it was intoxicating. It restored him better than the flames, better than the air, better than the dark moon, better than any _time_ could. 

It restored Dannik too, if only his confidence. He pulled back, face determined. "I will save her," he whispered back. 

Maurnig interrupted the moment, pulling back at Freicur's collar. He clipped a small chain to it and pulled Freicur back. "Only verbal instruction," he said. Freicur's fingers twitched and the bonds hummed. Maurnig laughed. "I'm rooting for him to fail, always," he murmured. "I'm rooting for you to twist in the agony I give you until death claims you. If he fails, I'll get to do the Sealing and you'll do nothing but worship every pain I inflict upon you."

The bonds pulsed and Freicur swayed on his feet. Maurnig kept the short chain taut; Freicur would not fall. He knew he had to focus on the task at hand. Working with Dannik was better than any moments alone with Maurnig. They had been given another dark moon to perform the Sealing, on account of the activation and needing to build the levels back up. Freicur would die before saying the words to finalize the Sealing to Maurnig. And Maurnig would laugh the entire time. He forced himself to take a deep breath, then another. The bonds were stabilizing, just a gentle hum now.

"Are we ready now?" Maurnig asked. Dannik nodded. "Good, the rules are simple. Using only magic, save the child from the pit. Guards, the lights. You have until the sands run out." 

The room plunged into darkness. The elf-child screamed.

While Maurnig had been taunting him, Freicur had not been paying attention to what was occurring on the Chamber floor. "Light!" he called to Dannik, but as he called, Dannik had cast the spell, and the candles burned brightly, brighter than they had before they'd been put out. Now Freicur could see what Dannik was up against. The elf-child had been lowered into a pit. He could not see what was in the pit, but the cries of the elf-child suggested she was in pain. Above the pit hung glistening blades, practically humming with sharpness. They were held by an several impossibly thin wires, ringed to anchors around the pit. 

"There's a sticking net and stinging spines at the bottom, I can do those both easily to raise her," Dannik called as he observed. "And how much time do we have?"

"I will worry about time," Freicur said. "You will break all at the very end, when she is raised. You'll need to use Hold and Close at the same time as you cast Sharp." He glanced towards the sand timer. Already half gone. "Now, Dannik!"

"There's something halfway up, she's caught on something," Dannik said. His voice was calm though. Freicur forced himself to count his breaths. Precious few moments left. "Do not worry about cutting her," he said. "The objective is only to free her."

"I knew you'd tell him to kill her," Maurnig hissed at him. "I'll force you to eat her, piece by piece. Only then will I tell you who she is to you."

Fear, not anger, blazed through Freicur; the difference was enough for him to keep his composure. They had only a few grains left; Dannik had raised the girl, hanging limp against her bonds. "Elbows higher!" Feicur yelled. "You need the leverage to cast both at once!" 

The last grains fell. The wired snapped. The blades fell. Dannik fell back, the elf-child in his arms.

"I need a Healer!" Dannik yelled, his voice fraught with panic. "I need, she's not breathing, I don't know what's wrong, I need, I need."

"Put your hands on the wound, her chest if there is none. Skin-to-skin. Lay your pointers touching at ninety degrees and overlap the middles, right over left. Space the rest and move the thumbs higher, counterclockwise, starting with the left." Freicur snapped the commands without thinking. He was scared, not because he felt that Dannik had failed; by his account, the elf-child had been saved just in time. He was scared she might be his kin in some way. Scared that Alhan had decided to leave one of them alive for his own evil purposes. Had he not thrown himself down, prostrated before Alhan for merciful deaths for his kin? Had he not allowed Alhan to sodomize him as the good faith to the agreement? If Alhan had violated the good faith and there was none of his kin for Freicur to seek the justificated revenge on … 

He would have preferred Maurnig.

"Steady breaths," Freicur said. "Your mind must be clear. Bite your thumbs to draw blood. Keep your breath steady. You are allowing the grace of your blood to replace hers."

"YOU WILL NOT!" Maurnig shook with rage and strode across the room towards Dannik. As Maurnig still held the chain, Freicur stumbled after him. 

"Do it!" Freicur yelled to Dannik. "It's a blood-debt and you'll be bound, but she'll live. We fail if she dies!"

Maurnig rushed, but Freicur dug his heels in, forcing Maurnig to drop the chain. He knew there'd been a reason he liked the elf-child. It was just enough to stop them reaching Dannik in time. The elf-child's chest was glistening with Dannik's blood; even though Maurnig pulled him off, the deed had been done. It was enough. Maurnig was screaming in rage while holding Dannik down; the younger elf was struggling mightily, but Maurnig had rage on his side. Freicur dismissed this for now and edged towards the pit. He could sense something off about the pit. He could see remnants of the sticking net and the unwrithing stinging spines. Dannik had handled them effortlessly, just as he'd used the two spells at the end effortlessly. Freicur had taught him well. The elf-child had not been cut by the blades, but Freicur could not see what she had been caught on. 

He looked over at the elf-child. She was still, but her chest was rising and falling sharply. He looked back over at the fighting elves; now two guards had joined, pulling the two apart. Maurnig was still screaming unintelligibly. Dannik looked calm, his eyes almost triumphant. With a resigned sigh, Freicur made his way over to the elf-child. Her eyes were wide. She was looking at her chest, at the drying blood. Freicur used his dress to wipe it away and pulled her own dress back around to cover her.

"Shall I free your bonds?" he asked, and she nodded. 

"There was a layer of strawberry syrup near the top," she whispered. "And I'm allergic. I wanted to tell him, but the stinging and the sticking and I couldn't do nothing but scream."

Freicur pulled at the rope as she talked; this was not golden cords or Hapsenforged. This was simple rope. Child's play. She had likely been too scared to realize she could have freed herself. He tugged the last loop and the bonds fell away. 

"Lucky you," Freicur commented. She smiled and reached for his bonds. He let her touch them, let her run her fingers up and down the smooth cuffs. She was looking for a clasp, or maybe a key-hole. Giving up on that, she traced her fingers lightly up, sitting up as she did so, before drumming her fingers on the collar. She found Maurnig's chain and unhooked it easily enough. She left her hands on the Hapsen chains, resting.

"You're one of the Dying Ones," she said. "Those are the only slaves allowed. Even if they want to slave Troublemakers."

This statement was curious, in many ways. Freicur pulled her to her feet and stood after her. "And who are you? A Troublemaker?"

She nodded solemnly, her hands reaching for the Hapsen bonds once again. "Im Winine. I was born a Troublemaker. So was my mother and her mother. They freed all the Dying Ones, but Troublemakers only get freed if someone bonds them. Did you bond me?"

"Why are you a Troublemaker, child?" Freicur asked. He had hoped to make his voice sound kind, but the question came out harsh and urgent, betraying how deeply he wanted the question answered. 

She shrugged. "Someone helped the wizards a long time ago and we have to pay for a thousand generations."

"You are my enemy then," Freicur said, though his tone was calm. "For I fought against the wizards." He wondered if her name, not a clan name, was simply just short for Wizard with a number after it. It would be cruel if it was.

Winine looked as though she wanted to say something, but her eyes widened in horror and she tried to press herself behind him. Freicur looked. Maurnig, Dannik, the two guards, and three people who must have been Council members by their dresses, were coming their way.

"Do not fear," Freicur whispered. "The one on the left you are bound to." He glared at Maurnig. His rage was compounded over several complaints, but the use of children as _war debts_ was one of them. He may have been Freicur the Conqueror, but he would not have let punishment pass beyond a generation. He would not have strung up an innocent child for use in a deadly _game_.

Maurnig glared back. "You will do the Sealing now."

Freicur shook his head, "I cannot, my reserves are still too-"

One of the Council, she appeared to be the leader of the three, stepped forward, her long deep blue dress blending into the background so that it seemed to sink into the floor and walls. Her voice was quiet, but not soft; it commanded the whole Chamber, "If Dannik is to have a bound elf-child, she will be protected by your Sealing. If you do not consent to it, either one of you, you will be imprisoned and Dannik will take another claim."

"I consent," Dannik said quickly. Freicur locked eyes with him; he seemed to be silently pleading with Freicur to agree. 

The alternative was to go back to his hell. Whether Maurnig let him rot in peace was not a guarantee, nor was it a request Freicur could likely make. He nodded. "I consent as well. May I request-"

"No," Maurig said sharply. The Councilmember who had spoke earlier held up her hand and Maurnig looked chagrined. 

"You may request, but we may not grant," she said simply. She spread her arms, palms up. Welcoming. She was as Dannik was, kind. It would eventually be her undoing. But that was not to ponder now. There were more pressing needs at hand.

"A private room," Freicur said. "There is no need for an audience. You will test that it has been done as you would test if we had performed the Sealing in Dannik's dwelling."

The two other Council members were nodding their agreement. The first smiled and nodded, "Yes, of course. The guard will lead you to my office chambers."

"And Winine?" Freicur said. "No harm shall come to her while we are gone?"

The Councilmember smiled again, a knowing smile, like she had just been proven right about something. "I shall see that she is not harmed."

Freicur gently pushed the elf-child towards the three Council members. Dannik stepped forward and took his arm, pulling him gently towards the door. Freicur had no need to resist and he allowed himself to be lead.

"What can I do to help?" Dannik whispered. The hallway was dim, and cold. "Cast Warmth when we get there," Freicur said. "Let me kiss you as we lie; it will strengthen the Sealing. The Council will like a strong bond."

"You are fond of her already." Dannik said without any judgement. "Epplet had thought you would. I will appreciate your assistance with her, though you are not required to give it."

Epplet must have been the Councilmember. "I will give it. Is her name as cruel as her situation?"

Dannik said nothing until they were at the chambers and he thanked the guard for leading them. He said nothing else until the door was shut and they made their way to a small antechamber, large enough only to hold a small sleeping cot. 

When he spoke, his voice was strained, as if it was painful for him to discuss. "Maurnig was appointed by the Council to oversee all punishment. He has no qualms about wasting Troublemakers. They are traitors to our world, to our race. I will be scorned for saving one and outcast for bonding one."

Freicur didn't let this comment go, "Ah, but you are not scorned for Sealing a Dying One to you? One slave is an honor, the second is a curse? Are we not both traitors? I chose my path, Dannik. What I have done is far worse than simply being born. She deserves your compassion. Or are you more hard-hearted than I thought? Did Hapsen bless you for power? You were not blessed for your courage, in any form."

"Courage?!" Dannik yelled. "Courage was agreeing to be your conservator and apprenti-"

"MY MASTER!" Freicur yelled and the bonds flared. He felt himself falling, he felt his breath catch on fire, he felt Dannik's magic hands on his, burning the skin he touched, he felt Dannik's lips pressed tightly against his until both of them lay still.

"We cannot do the Sealing angry," Dannik said softly. "And you cannot activate the bonds without losing your freedom and likely your life. There is so much you do not know. So much you speak of. Compassion? The traitors bound Wizards to get them through the Bounds, then worked with them to destroy us. The blood of their descendents still carries that promise. Yet the Troublemakers are the only who can cross, when it is necessary. We cannot kill them easily and enslaving them weakens what little protection we have against the Wizards. So yes, they are constantly punished, outcasts, redeemed only by someone foolish enough to bond them. There is so much you do not know, and I do not have time to tell you. Trust me, Freicur. Please. The Sealing is my good faith."

The offer stunned Freicur and he had to lean against the wall for strength. The Sealing on its own would give Dannik protection against Freicur; and now that there was a blood-debt with the elf-child, the protection would flow to her so long as the debt remained in place. Offering the Sealing as good faith meant the protection would flow both ways. If Dannik betrayed Freicur's trust, if he violated the good faith, not even the Sealing would protect him from the justified revenge Freicur would seek.

It was not what Dannik would do. Had he been misled? Had Dannik been toying with him as he'd been toying with him? Was he perhaps a warrior after all?

"What is it you seek from me, Dannik?" Freicur asked, slowly. 

"Right now? To take one over Maurnig. He is betting we will fill, that you will not submit to the Sealing. That you will not teach me. His only power is in punishment and with you Sealed to me, it diminishes that much more. They should have freed you long ago, after The Massacre. Maurnig fought against it and won. His time is ending. It's time for elves to begin again."

Freicur was shaking his head, "No, no. You are too kind for this.You are-"

Dannik laughed, "I am what? Weak? 'The third finger on the left is the power caster, not the first on the right' Did you think me a fool? I knew what I was doing. I'm taking a risk now, telling you this, but you like power. You are drawn to it. It is why your body aches for my touch. Do you deny this?"

He couldn't say no. He couldn't say yes. This was a turn of events he had not anticipated. This was the end of his plans. Yes, he would have to perform the Sealing, but in the case of master/slave it offered limited protections. Fire was spreading through him, along with the full weight of Dannik's earlier offer to use the Sealing as good faith. 

Dannik moved towards him and brushed his fingers lightly across his cheek. The magic, the electrical magic through the hands of the first elf of the new age, sparked through him and Freicur could feel fire stir in all places of his being. 

"What … of … the … elf-child?" Freicur gasped out. His head was spinning, but he stayed against the wall, even as Dannik pressed his body against his. 

Dannik considered this. "She was unexpected," he said, slowly. "I will be outcast. It is a set back." He pressed his lips to Freicur's ear, "But I did it to keep you, you're the one that I want. You will help me, you've already agreed."

Freicur was trembling. This could all be an elaborate trick. This could be an Udur mind-trick that Dannik was planning. Perhaps a real Udur? Freicur's head was spinning and he knew he hand to answer. "Her blood, if it does what you say, it will be valuable. An opportunity. Not a setback."

"So we have an understanding," Dannik said, his voice working like tendrils through Freicur's ears to wrap around his mind. "More than a master/slave Sealing. A leader and his follower. A follower and his leader. Was my risk worth taking, Freicur? Will you submit to the Sealing?"

"Is this an Udur trick?" Freicur whispered back. 

As Dannik said "No," the words of the Urdur mixed with his voice, "Submit to Dannik," and Freicur couldn't tell them apart. He was still stunned by the turn of events.

"Yes," Freicur said, his voice soft. "Yes, I will submit to you."

It ended his plans. He would not be leading Dannik along until the right moment. He would not rise again. He would train Dannik and follow him to the end of the world. It was better than nothing. If Dannik was successful - and with him behind him, how could he not be - Freicur would have some power. Not what he'd hoped for, but some was better than nothing.

Dannik pulled at Freicur's dress and it easily slipped to the ground. His cock, stirred by the magic, was fully erect.

"Face down," Dannik instructed.

Like in a dream, Freicur sat on the cot, then swung onto his stomach. It pinned his hands, left him vulnerable. His cock pressed against his stomach and hummed in sync with the bonds. He waited as he heard Dannik undress.

"As I was bound to save you, you will be bound in your submissiveness," Dannik said. "Not with magic, not with golden cords, and not with Hapsenforged chains, but symbolic, with simple rope" 

Freicur's loins ached and he desperately wanted release. He was not a beggar, and he would not beg for what both of them knew Freicur wanted. He nodded his head.

That was all Dannik needed. He grabbed Freicur's ankle and looped simple rope around it. Then he began to wind it around the corner leg of the cot. Freicur extended his leg out, and Dannik tightened the rope. He repeated the same on the other ankle. More rope encircled his torso and a final one ran across his collar and through the chain, holding his head down. 

Dannik brushed his fingers lightly across Freicur's face. "I think this will do nicely, won't it, Freicur the Conqueror? Begin." 

Freicur closed his eyes, struggling to keep his breathing under control. "I am Freicur, son of Elaicur and through our fathers back and back to the first Elven King."

"I am Dannik, son of Lonnik, and through our fathers, back and back to the first Elven King." Dannik said, his voice steady and determined. "I seek the willing submission of Freicur, son of Elaicur, for myself and should it come to pass, the kin of my clan, until death takes him or I Seal him to another."

"I offer my mind to you, and should it come to pass, your kin of your clan, through its vessel my body, wholly and completely, until my death."

Dannik moved to lay on top of Freicur and slid his hands to wrap around Freicur's desperate cock. Freicur could not protest. It was too late to back out of Sealing now. "With my hands on his body, I accept the submission of Freicur, son of Elaicur to Dannik, son of Lonnik."

Dannik left his hands around Freicur's cock and kissed Freicur deeply. The magic coursed through them, at first a light warmth, then, as the Sealing took hold, a deep, painful heat. Freicur could not move if he wanted to. Dannik did not break the kiss, nor did his hands leave their place. It was only some time after the heat had faded that Dannik moved, his sticky hands trailing across Freicur's back.

"Thank you for requesting a private room," Dannik said, his lips in Freicur's ear. "Much better than my hands on your shoulders, don't you think? Much more powerful. Now come, I still have to lay my mark." 

After untying the ropes, Dannik helped Freicur sit up. In his hand he held one smaller loop of simple rope. Freicur watched as Dannik took the rope and slipped it up his now-limp cock and pulled the rope tight. Being touched there was euphoric and Freicur nearly fell over from the shock of it all. Dannik did not command him to leave the rope on, but Freicur did not need it. It was his mark and it would not be removed until and unless Dannik wished it.

"You've made the cock the -" Freicur started. His breath was ragged and he felt confused. "Elven-brides are Sealed on their breasts, warriors on their hearts, followers on the shoulder, and slaves on the back. Why … why did you seal on …" He could not say it.

"I sealed on the place of your seed," Dannik said. "For I might find it valuable someday, just as the elf-child's blood is valuable. I also wanted you to be truly submissive. Now it is the place that calls you to me." He moved his fingers casting the spell to call Freicur, though he was right there. The deep, painful heat came quickly and Freicur thrust his pelvis at Dannik. He still would not beg. Dannik responded quickly, placing his hands around the cock. The heat abated.

Freicur wanted to writhe in pain, he wanted to touch himself, to release himself, but he was still proud. He would not let Dannik see him desperate. He would wait, until they were at the dwelling, and Dannik asleep. The rope, Dannik's mark, was tight, but not unbearable.

"I always marked with a kiss," Freicur said, trying to keep his tone light. "I never saw the value in physical objects as a mark."

Dannik smiled, "Oh, it's there for my pleasure. Symbolism."

They said nothing more as the two dressed and Dannik cleaned the room. Waiting at the end of the hall from the chamber was the guard. The three walked in silence back to council chambers, Dannik breaking the silence only to thank the guard for bringing them back. 

The Chamber had emptied, leaving only the Epplet, the elf-child, and a guard.

Epplet offered no greetings. She handed Freicur a stinging cane. "You will deal Dannik three welts in five attempts. If you fail, Dannik will lose a finger for every missed welt."

Dannik looked concerned, but he stood where Epplet directed him. Freicur was concerned as well. He didn't know what would be passing. Not hitting Dannik would show the Sealing was in place, preventing him from hurting Dannik. But would he be hurting Dannik by not hitting him? He held the cane like a bat, the only way he could hold it, and approached Dannik, weakly swinging. His arm jerked back not of his accord and he nearly lost his balance.

"Again," Epplet said.

Freicur groaned and steeled himself for the second attempt. Again his arm wrenched back, and again Epplet demanded another hit. Freicur clenched his jaw for the third attempt .. and this followed through, walloping Dannik in the knees.

"Guard," Epplet said and for a moment Freicur thought it was all over. But the guard only took the cane. In that time, Dannik had managed to soothe his knee. Epplet smiled. "You pass. I am confident the Sealing has taken place. Dannik, what of Winine?"

"She can go to Kynnik, up past Durn Creek. My brother owes me a favor and the fields will treat her well."

It was disappointing, to say the least. Freicur had been looking foward to having someone in the dwelling in the same position as he. Someone who could look up to him. The elf-child did not seem disturbed by this, and she walked out quietly with the guard. For her, it was more freedom than she'd ever known or would possibly know, when Dannik's plans came into action.

"You have done us proud, Dannik. In such a short time, with a weakened Dying One, you have improved greatly. You will do great things. Take your charge and go. We will see you at the next dark moon."

Freicur held his question until they were safely out of the council chambers and back in the glowing sun. "Epplet, how old is she?"

"A hundred and fifty. Give or take," Dannik said. He was striding fast, towards their dwelling. Freicur couldn't help himself; a fire was burning in his loins at the thought of lying in a bed with Dannik. Now that Dannik had shown his hand, Freicur appreciated him more. He was drawn to the power, like Dannik had said. 

"It's curious, the elf-child," Freicur said carefully. "She was in my fire-dream."

At this, Dannik stopped. He pulled his face close to Freicur's. "Silence," Dannik's voice filtered through Freicur's veins. It was an Udur trick; Dannik was no elf. Dannik had made the fire dream. And they had performed the Sealing; there was naught Freicur could do. The Udur was compelling him to silence. A command would have achieved the same goal, but Dannik was letting his power spill out. It was not until they were back in the house that Dannik smiled at Freicur and thought the words, "You may speak."

"You are Udur," Freicur said. "You are Udur and you claimed they were a myth. You are not an elf-"

"I am," the voice of Dannik in his head was soft, gentle. Soothing. Luring him, but to where he did not know. "The Udur saved me during the Dousing of Hapsen. I am the only survivor, by their grace. They imbued in me powers. If it helps, they likely did not know they were doing it. They are myths. They were burned during the Massacre by the wizards. I am the only survivor of the Dousing of Hapsen, and the only elf with Udur powers."

While he was in his head, his lips were not moving. He was, moving about the dwelling, moving the bed back to the back room. Now that the Sealing had been done, Freicur did not need to draw strength from the fire.

Freicur could not respond. He could not move. He was held, completely in the grasp of Dannik.

"You were the Dying One I wished to be assigned, Freicur the Conqueror," Dannik continued in speakthought. "I owe you my existence. My power is due to what you started. I will repay you in full with your freedom from Stonyvine, and you will repay me for this life with your service. Do you see, Freicur? Do you see how all the pieces fit together? Do you see what you and I can truly do?"

Freicur nodded, numb with shock. 

"I wish for what is in your blood and seeds; I wish for the power of a longer life," Dannik said. "This I will only take willingly, at your initiation. But you desire me, Freicur. There is no excuse for us to act on pretense. You have been begging for my touch since the fire-dream."

Freicur considered this. It was true, though he did not want to admit it. Dannik tasted like the old world, the one that had been left behind. Dannik made him feel _whole_ , in a way he could not so long as the Hapsenforged chains were about him.

"And these?" he asked, holding out his bound arms to Dannik.

"Hush," Dannik said, and he spoke it this time. "Even if I held the key, I would not give it to you. Would you, if you were in my place?"

"No," Freicur admitted. "I would not give an elf with the potential to kill me his freedom. I did not when I waged my war. Your kindness is a guise, Dannik, and for that I commend and admire you."

Dannik smiled. "And how else do you admire me, Freicur?"

It was unbidden, but Freicur knelt, pushed aside the dress of Dannik, and pressed his lips against his master's cock. The magic that coursed through him made his eyes roll into his head, but he held on, forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Forced himself to submit to the only elf who had proven himself to be stronger than him. It was owed, if not by custom, by Freicur's own moral code. 

He wanted to do this and Dannik was willing to accept. It was a complete surrender of sorts; once he did this, he would belong to Dannik in all ways, physically, mentally, and sexually. Dannik did not need to call Freicur for his cock had risen in kind, pressing against his own dress robes. 

"You will not release before me," Dannik spokethought.

Freicur could not answer, his head bobbing back and forth as he took his master as far down his throat as he could without gagging. He did not answer when Dannik twisted his hands in his hair and helped guide his head along his cock. He did not answer when Dannik began to moan in pleasure, rocking back and forth to the movement of his head. 

He answered when Dannik pushed his head against him, his nose tightly in the loin-hairs of his master, with a small gurgle.

Dannik held his head in place while his seed spilled into his mouth. It was too much for Freicur to swallow, and it sputtered out of his mouth and nose, down his dress. His own cock, still sheathed behind his dress, exploded. There was a burst of magic between the two of them, Freicur could feel it in his bonds. They were two powerful elves, pushing against the magical bounds and finding themselves equal to it.

Freicur moaned against Dannik's slowly limping cock and Dannik moved his head back.

"Thank you," Freicur said, breathless. "Thank you."

He wondered where they would go from here, but Dannik answered, as though he were in Freicur's thoughts. "Now we plan how to rid ourselves of Maurnig and the Council. Kingford is weak, he will listen to power. Come my little Conqueror, tell me your ideas."

"First," Freicur began, "we need to see the worlds we can get to, and take stock."

It was the beginning of something new, the return to the old ways.


End file.
